Never Say Love
by Acearra
Summary: Sesshoumaru did not love, it was weakness. Inuyasha knew this, but he loved him anyway. M/M - Lemon


**INUYASHA** © Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan • Yomiuri TV • Sunrise 2000_  
No money is being made from the creation or viewing of this piece of fanwork, which is strictly for personal, non-commercial recreation, in accordance with the copyright._

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"On the bed," the silver-haired man ordered as he pointed at the wrinkle-free cream sheets. Inuyasha never let his eyes leave his partner as he crawled onto the bed, ass in the air. "Look away," ordered Sesshoumaru.

That's how it always was. It always was so cold, the manner in which the couple made love. Made love wasn't even an accurate term for it; there was no love in Sesshoumaru's brutal thrusts. Fucking, that was what it was. They fucked, every movement was brutal and hard, one step towards the ultimate pay off. Love. That term was foreign. Sesshoumaru didn't feel love; Inuyasha had come to understand that the hard way.

"Love is but a delusion," his "boyfriend" would say. "Love doesn't make the world go round, greed and hatred does. Love is not but a chemical reaction of the body, and lust is nothing more than a physical manifestation of that."

Inuyasha's dark denim jeans were ripped down to his knees, boxers pulled down along with them. Cold air met pale skin. With deceptive gentleness, Sesshoumaru brushed his hands over the soft skin, fingers moving over the puckered rim of the half-breed's anus.

"Everyone suffers from love," echoed the frigid voice of Sesshoumaru within the confines of the half-breed's mind. "It is natural. Being natural though, does not mean that it's right. You were naturally created from the copulation of a human woman and a demon man, but you are still an abomination."

Inuyasha's puppy ears swiveled as he picked up on the sound of Sesshoumaru unzipping his own jeans. He heard as his full demon lover shuffled out of them, and threw them aside. Without even looking, Inuyasha knew that the hardened cock stood at attention, in need of a place to burrow. He also knew that his full demon lover hadn't even bothered to remove his top. A quickie, one might call what was going on now, even though the clock read seven in boxy red numbers, and they had all night to be together.

"But since love is natural, we must give into its incessant nagging," continued the unembodied sound of Sesshoumaru's voice. "We grow eager and tense when we don't give into it. It is vital to survival, but it is not vital to happiness. Without, we fall, but with, we also fall."

He felt the wet, warm head of Sesshoumaru's prick against his anus. Sesshoumaru was not one for foreplay. Lube on, thrust away. Sesshoumaru pushed the head within Inuyasha's hole; his hand pushing down on the half-breed's lower back to hold him still. Inuyasha bit his lip, looking down at the ruined sheets now, tracing the rectangular pattern with his golden eyes. He really hated the design of Sesshoumaru's sheets, but he loved Sesshoumaru so he went with it anyway.

"Ironic, neh?" heard Inuyasha again. "That is why I have the method I have. I do no love. I make a deal with whatever deity, and go through the motions. I fuck, spill the seed for which my unevolved instincts tell me to spill. I don't love though. I don't allow such emotion to grip onto me."

The thrusts were brutal, as always. Gentle was not a part of Sesshoumaru. Gentle was given away with that deal Sesshoumaru always referred to. It would be painful to sit on his rump for hours afterwards, but Inuyasha would take it, his head buried in the pillows that smelled of his lover, as the long, hard cock of his lover filled up his rear. His hands would ball around the creamy sheets as he did everything in his power not to writhe and wiggle underneath Sesshoumaru. Sesshoumaru hated wriggling.

Everyone once in a while, one of the hands that were normally stationed on the half-breed's hips would move down to the Inuyasha's member. Sesshoumaru would be merciful, dance his claws lightly over the heated flesh, pump his fist up and down the straining length. Sometimes, if Sesshoumaru was feeling particularly merciful, the hands would travel under the cock to Inuyasha's testicles. Sesshoumaru would role the balls in his hands; give a squeeze and a stroke here or there.

Inuyasha cried out at one particular squeeze. The cry was one of pleasure and of pain. That was how Sesshoumaru's lovings were, they were painful, incredibly so, but they also brought with them tremendous pleasure. Inuyasha took the abuse, the constant talking down to and the unceasingly cold shoulder because of that, because of the pleasure that was returned to him. The pain paid off.

"That doesn't mean you can't allow yourself to be ruled by sentiment," continued Sesshoumaru's voice in his thoughts. "It is understandable that a weak creature such as yourself would be ruled by feeling. You are inferior to what I am. Rationale rules me, emotion does you. That's fine, but that's only fine if you will admit that that makes you inferior and me superior. Horace Walpole once said that the world is a tragedy to those that feel, and a comedy to those that think."

Inuyasha felt it, the edge, the brink. Sesshoumaru fingers dance along the ridges of his swollen cock as he balls slapped against the half-breeds reddened skin. He hurt. He hurt so much. But he was like a masochist and his Sesshoumaru was the sadist, doling out the punishment he gobbled up so quickly. He was a glutton for agony, but it tasted so good.

There he was falling and falling. He soared at the same time though, soared through the sky. Liquid, cum, filled splattered against his backside, emptied from the cock of his lover, his own cum dumped onto the sheets. He was too lost though, within the feeling that Sesshoumaru so despised.

"It is funny to watch your pleasure," said the real Sesshoumaru as Inuyasha drifted gently back to earth. "You make it seem as if it's actually nice to feel, even though you're giving into weakness. A comedy, truly. Perhaps to you and that silly girl who crushes on you though, the way I treat you is a tragedy." Sesshoumaru gently stroked the sweat-damped white hair of Inuyasha in an illusory show of love.

"I love you," Inuyasha whispered, eyes shut as he nestled against the sodden pillows, surrounded by the stench of sweat and fluids of fucking.

"And I don't love you back."


End file.
